The Jade Dragon
by aeg1s54545
Summary: A Faunus vigilante with a vendetta and a sad past, a mercenary with a heart of gold turned Huntsman, and a school designed to train Humanity's protectors. All three are separate from the other yet are wound together by the stirngs of destiny. What awaits them?
Chapter one: Night Life

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY

* * *

 _Vale, a few weeks earlier..._

The bell above the shop door rang as he pushed the glass door open and let it close behind him, his white tabi shoes barely making a sound as he walked to the counter and looked at the cakes, cookies, cupcakes and other delicious foods on display. He rang the little customer service bell, it's petite little ring annoying his ears as he waited for the baker to come to the counter. He rang the bell again, impatience eating away at him before he heard a door in the back open and shut, footsteps coming from the kitchen.

"I'll be there in a second!" a man's voice called happily. He tapped his foot as he waited, pulling his hands from his pockets and sitting on one of the benches for when you waited to pick up your order. With the lack of people to see him do it, he started to wrap up his hands, the white cloth wrapping around his hands until they were tight. The man made a fist and looked up, his noticing the men and women in the back and they were definitely guarding something. Guns? Dust? Lien? He didn't know but it was worth checking out after he's looked around. He pulled a book from his pants pocket, opened to his marked page, and waited for the right moment.

The door to the kitchen opened, a man with violet hair with small patches of blue and orange walking out with a fresh cake and a smile. His green checkered shirt was stained with icing and his jeans were coated in flour but, nonetheless, he turned and smiled to his customer. Despite getting no sign that he even existed from the other person, he still smiled , placed the cake in the display case and went back to the little doodles he had on his notepad. Drawing a smiley face, he wrote across a sheet of paper:

 **My name's Murphy Maroon, or Mister Maroon. You know, the baker? :)**

Murphy folded the paper into an airplane and threw it at the silent man, the flight cut short because the nose of the papercraft crashed into his shoulder. He stood up, closing the book and putting it back in his pocket, the piece of paper in hand, and Murphy sized him up. He wore an ankle length, dark green hooded long coat over a white long sleeve shirt, with a piece of armor strapped to his right shoulder, a skull carved into the polished steel, his hands wrapped up. A jade Dragon wound down the left leg of his black running pants with a tactical kneepad on his right kneecap, a brown leather belt with smoke bombs and some small disks wrapped tightly around his hips and buckled. His sword was hanging from a strap over his shoulder, the bladed weapon making a slash across his back. He unfolded the paper plane, read the message, and said nothing as he walked to the desk, took a pen, and wrote his reply. He handed the paper over to Murphy, the baker reading the small, neat writing.

 **I need two dozen chocolate chip cookies for the road.**

Murphy unlocked the display case, reaching for the cookies and placing them on a napkin, going in the back and coming back out with a pink box. Placing the cookies into the box, the baker looked up at the cloaked mystery man, watching as he pulled out his wallet and handed over three Lien cards. Murphy wrote another message on the slip of paper.

 **That's a lot of cookies for one person, don't you think? You wouldn't happen to be meeting anyone, are you?**

Murphy flipped the paper over and handed him the pen, which he took.

 **No, they're for me. I just got hungry.**

 **Hiding from someone? The entire time you've been here you've had your face hidden by that hood.**

 **No.**

 **Then why leave the hood up?**

 **You got cameras and some people in the back. I'm trying to keep myself off the radar and away from less than savory people.**

 **Do you have enemies?**

 **Is there a point to these questions or are you deliberately wasting my time?**

 **You didn't even answer my question!**

 **What do you want?**

 **I want to know what else you want. That's all.**

 **Actually, I got a question that I was hoping you could answer while I'm here. Just one. Think you can answer it or is this just a one-way question session?**

 **Shoot.**

 **What are you hiding in the basement, Murphy?**

Murphy almost looked sick as he replied with a simple:

 **I got some cooking supplies stored in the back, some in the basement and cellar. That's all.**

The man pulled his hood down, his black hair cascading down to his chest, the natural green highlights around the edges of his hair catching the baker's attention. The Faunus looked up, a pure white Grimm mask like all the new White Fang recruits wore hiding his eyes, the two pairs of eye slits staring into the ocean of purple that were Murphy's eyes.

"I don't appreciate being lied to, Murphy." He stated, though it sounded more like a warning. "If I found out that you are lying, I'm going to make you sorry that you didn't tell the truth. Now, now that I have made myself clear, do you want to answer my question again?"

"I swear, t-there's only cooking supplies down there." He held his hands up in surrender. "J-just don't hurt me, okay?"

The black fox ears on top of his head twitched as he reached into the box and grabbed a cookie, looking at Murphy with an empty stare the mask always gave before he turned around and walked out of the door, the bell dinging behind him. He walked across the street and leaned against his sleek, emerald green crotch rocket, the motorcycle already leaning on it's kickstand. He parted his dark green long coat and reached into a pocket near his ribcage, pulling his Scroll out and calling someone who owed him information.

"Helios." A sultry, sensual female voice answered. "I take it Murphy's more loyal to his White Fang cohorts than you thought?"

"He's hiding their operation in his bakery. This is the third small business bought off by the White Fang." Helios answered, checking behind himself as White Fang grunts walked out from behind the bakery and into view of the alley between the buildings, rifles in their hands. The fox tensed up, getting ready for a fight. "How high is the possibility of you bringing me the rifle case from Atlas?"

"Why?" the woman on the other side of the call asked. "Is it the White Fang?"

"Everybody lies." he answered, ending the conversation by ending the brief conference and sprinting silently into the alley, following the White Fang.


End file.
